


Accidents, Regret, and the Creep of Common Sense

by CocksAndClocks



Category: RWBY
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Canon Compliant, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Canon, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CocksAndClocks/pseuds/CocksAndClocks
Summary: In a series of lifetimes that contained almost every error of man, Professor Ozpin found that the horror of this particular mistake was beyond evenhiscomprehension. He stared at the text on his scroll, face pale, stomach dropping, hands beginning to shake. For a long moment he stood, frozen, hoping to wake from a living nightmare. Instead, the text remained, the photograph painfully in focus. His worst mistake, sent by utter accident.A dick pic.OzQrow Week Day 5: Role Reversal
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Ozpin
Comments: 17
Kudos: 71





	Accidents, Regret, and the Creep of Common Sense

**Author's Note:**

> “Nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are one's mistakes.” ― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
> 
> Our first proper one-shot! For OzQrow Week Day 5: Role Reversal (because let's be honest - you all thought Qrow would send the first one)

In a series of lifetimes that contained almost every error of man, Professor Ozpin found that the horror of this particular mistake was beyond even _his_ comprehension. He stared at the text on his scroll, face pale, stomach dropping, hands beginning to shake. For a long moment he stood, frozen, hoping to wake from a living nightmare. Instead, the text remained, the photograph painfully in focus. His worst mistake, sent by utter accident.

A dick pic.

And not to just anyone. To the one person who mattered, to the person he feared scaring off most of all, someone whose respect he had, in an instant, obliterated.

Ozpin ran a hand over his mouth, the full scope of his horror sinking in.

Qrow Branwen had graduated from Beacon Academy years ago, working as one of Ozpin’s many spies, but their relationship had flirted with more than just that. None of Ozpin’s other spies snuck into his window at night when they had no updates. No one else brought Ozpin coffee spiked with whiskey on cold days, or stayed up too late to play chess. 

_Friends,_ Ozpin supposed. Or the closest thing to a friend Ozpin kept these days. 

Naturally, Ozpin’s feelings, allowed one discretion, took them all, blooming into a warmth at Qrow’s voice, his face, like whiskey in coffee. There were too many reasons it wouldn’t work – notwithstanding the most important one of all.

Qrow had never indicated he felt the same way.

And so Ozpin swept the feelings up and locked them away inside, determined not to curse Qrow Branwen with more bad luck than his name was already inclined to give.

Until now.

Ozpin let out a long breath, mind turning to damage control.

He had been in terrifying positions before – the first murder at Salem’s hands, the fear of waking in unfamiliar bodies, the violence of every new life. He steadied his heart. This was a minor embarrassment. This could be smoothed over.

He opened his scroll, looked at the photo, and groaned aloud.

_This is worse than being murdered._

It had been late when it happened, past midnight. Ozpin had worked late again, finally withdrawing to his apartment when he felt the weariness seep into his bones. A hot shower, a few hours’ sleep. That had been the plan.

Instead, Qrow had texted him. He heard it while in the shower, the tone he reserved for Qrow and no one else. He reached around the shower curtain, wet fingers groping for the scroll on the edge of the sink. It happened all at once – the suddenly slick shower floor, the desperate grasp of the curtain and the flailing of the hand hovering over the phone. The world turned upside down and when it halted again, Ozpin was on the floor, breathless, staring at the ceiling, wet legs tangled in the curtain. For a moment he lay, testing limbs, but nothing seemed to be broken, or even injured, and so he sat up, shaking the vertigo from his head.

He had laughed at that moment, thinking that he could tell Qrow about how his bad luck seemed to seep even through his scroll. He was sure of Qrow being amused despite himself, and so Ozpin searched around himself for where the device had fallen. It lay just out of reach and he wriggled against the plastic curtain, fingers tapping the screen as he fumbled for it.

He heard the sound of a text sending, and at once he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

The snap of a photo during a fall, and the accidental text with slippery hands.

The worst bad luck of this life.

_This cannot be happening._

Ozpin had fantasized about how he would confess his feelings for Qrow – if he ever had the courage. These fantasies covered every scenario: dinner and wine, a late evening spent over the chess board, a quiet conversation as they walked the dark courtyards of Beacon.

None of them had happened like _this._

Almost twelve minutes had passed since Ozpin’s cursed text had sent and the headmaster paced about his bedroom, utterly baffled as to how he would explain this away. The truth? Would Qrow believe something so fantastic? Ozpin could confess now – but thrusting such an intimate photograph before a heartfelt confession felt forced and insincere. 

He collapsed on the side of the bed, the silent scroll clasped between his hands.

He would apologize. There was nothing else he could do but bear the shame and ask forgiveness.

He opened the text and winced at the image, typing quickly.

“Please see me in my office tomorrow at your earliest convenience.”

The scroll pinged when the message sent and Ozpin sighed, weary beyond weary. These sorts of things needed to be addressed in person, to emphasize the proper amount of accountability. 

The scroll trilled now and Ozpin jumped off the bedside, heart pounding. He fumbled to unlock the scroll, eyes skimming the words desperately.

“Sure. See you in the morning.”

And that was all. Ozpin blinked, waiting for more, for some sign that Qrow had seen a very clear image of Ozpin’s – well. 

Did he intend not to mention it at all?

Of course, that was preferred, really. Wait for Ozpin to explain, apologize, and force their relationship back into some pretended semblance of professionalism.

Ozpin stared at the message for another long moment. Silence fell, no further texts appearing.

He groaned again, falling backward on the bed, an arm over his eyes, cursing himself for the greatest idiot to have ever lived, in this time and every other.

*

Morning came slowly, an agonizing crawl of the sun over the horizon. Ozpin met the sunrise in his office, coffee in hand, sleep never finding him. He rubbed tired eyes behind his glasses, his stomach in knots tied over the hours he had lay awake, staring at the darkness of his ceiling.

It was barely six o’clock, and Ozpin stood watching the pale orange sky like a man scheduled for execution.

He didn’t know exactly when Qrow would arrive, or whether via the elevator as a man or through the window as a bird. He sighed, tearing himself from the windows, determined to use the time working rather than waiting for the axe to fall.

The elevator pinged the moment he sat down at his desk and he froze, hands on the armrests, eyes darting to the elevator light. He watched the numbers rise, his heart rising with it, until he could scarcely swallow. He steadied his nerves with another gulp of coffee, refusing to look up as the door slid smoothly open, Qrow’s heeled boots echoing on the polished floor.

“Good morning,” Ozpin said, forcing a normalcy into his tone. “You’re earlier than I expected.”

“Seemed important,” Qrow said, his lips twitching.

_Did he think this was funny? Or did he not get the photograph at all?_

Ozpin cleared his throat, unable to read his colleague’s expression. “Yes, it is. I suppose you know why I asked you here.”

Qrow motioned with an arm for Ozpin to continue.

The headmaster willed down the heat on his face. “It’s because I – I accidentally sent you a photograph.”

Qrow’s lips broke into a full grin now. “A dick pic,” he emphasized.

And then his grin vanished.

“Accidentally?” he said.

Ozpin blinked. “Of course.”

Qrow frowned.

_Is he…_

“You’re disappointed,” Ozpin said, the realization finally dawning.

Qrow stuttered.

And now Ozpin found himself smiling. “You’re _disappointed_ it was an accident.”

“Oh, come on, Oz, you don’t have to rub it in,” Qrow said, looking put out, arms crossed over his chest.

Ozpin laughed, the relief washing over tense limbs, his over-wrecked heart. “I’m so glad,” he said breathlessly.

Qrow shot him a glare. “About _what?”_

“I thought you would think – well. That it was a confession.”

“Yeah, well,” Qrow muttered darkly. “Usually when a guy sends _that,_ it means somethin’.”

“It did.”

Qrow’s head shot up.

“Well,” Ozpin said, the scrutiny making him blush. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Was it an accident, or wasn’t it?” Qrow said.

“It was,” Ozpin said, “but…not devoid of meaning.”

“Oz, you gotta stop talking like a sphinx.”

Ozpin took a long breath. “I didn’t mean to send it. I slipped in the shower, and it…just happened. But the reason I was worried was because I thought…you would be offended.”

Qrow stared.

“Not merely offended,” Ozpin pressed on. “Unable to reciprocate.”

Qrow stared for a moment longer, his face inscrutable. Ozpin held his breath, waiting for a reaction.

Finally, Qrow gave a shrug, reaching for his pants button.

“What are you doing?” Ozpin asked, eyes wide as he watched Qrow’s fingers search for his zipper.

“Reciprocatin’,” Qrow drawled.

“You don’t need to – “ Ozpin covered his mouth and looked away, the temperature of the office unbearably hot now.

Qrow sighed, dropping the joke and his hands, safely to his sides (Ozpin hazarding a glance at where his pants remained unfortunately fastened).

“You really didn’t know?” 

Ozpin tore his eyes back upward. Qrow was staring again, like Ozpin was impossibly daft.

“Know what?” he asked.

Qrow let out a short breath, shaking his head.

_Impossibly daft._

“Oz, I’ve had a hell of a thing for you for years now,” Qrow said.

“Wha – “ The syllable escaped him, meaningless and inelegant, Ozpin feeling his back hit the back of his chair heavily.

_This is the part where I wake up._

“I thought you knew and were lettin’ me down easy,” Qrow said, circling the desk. “Turns out you’re just kinda stupid.”

Ozpin watched, helpless as Qrow closed the distance between them, leaning down toward his face, until Ozpin could feel the touch of his breath.

“I like that in a man,” Qrow said, and kissed him.

Ozpin made a noise of surprise at the press of his lips, hands lifting from the armrests and staying suspended in the air for a frantic moment. Qrow’s lips moved against his and Ozpin felt the panic ebb, the warmth of his touch replacing it, eyes drifting closed, palms finding Qrow’s waist, pulling –

Qrow broke away, lips hovering just out of reach, twitching back into a smirk.

“Oh,” Ozpin said, because he could think of absolutely nothing better to say, his voice faint and dazed.

“You got it bad, huh?” Qrow murmured, his voice infinitely pleased.

“Yes,” Ozpin breathed, nodding automatically, if it meant Qrow would kiss him again.

He did, and this time Ozpin met him halfway, lifting his head toward Qrow, arching into the touch of a hand on the back of his neck. Qrow’s tongue prodded at Ozpin’s mouth and he obliged, a soft moan at the taste of him, his hands tightening on Qrow’s waist.

_This is the part where I wake up,_ he thought again, but Qrow was deliciously present, lips against lips, fingers tugging at the ends of the hair on Ozpin’s neck.

“Tell me,” Qrow whispered, trailing lips from Ozpin’s mouth to his cheek, ear, throat, the chair squeaking in protest at the weight of two men. “Did you panic when you sent that?”

“Gods, yes,” Ozpin breathed, eyes fluttering at the hint of teeth grazing his throat, hands blindly exploring the curves of Qrow’s back. “I didn’t sleep.”

Qrow chuckled, so low that Ozpin felt the vibration without the sound, Qrow’s mouth clamping over the headmaster’s ear lobe.

“I coulda thrown a party,” Qrow murmured, removing Ozpin’s glasses and kissing his eyelids. “Run a marathon. Lifted a car with my bare hands. That’s how good it felt.”

Ozpin reached up and cupped Qrow’s face, locking lips once more. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “for being a fool.”

“Don’t be,” Qrow said. “If you weren’t, you’d’ve never sent that photo.”

“The silver lining of bad luck,” Ozpin murmured, drunk off the feeling of Qrow in his arms, Qrow’s mouth against his skin.

Qrow laughed softly. “Tell you what,” he said, each word accented with a touch of their lips. “You let me see the real thing, and I’ll never curse my bad luck again.”

Ozpin laughed into his mouth, Qrow’s kisses growing harder, more meaningful. “If I recall,” he said, his playful tone dissolving into breathlessness at the press of Qrow’s body against his, “you still owe me a bit of reciprocation.”

Qrow’s hips gave a calculated thrust and Ozpin’s head fell back at the bliss of it, fingers digging into Qrow’s waist, his thoughts tipsy on how Qrow made him feel, his blood hot, alight.

“Cancel your meetings,” Qrow panted, his expression pure arrogance. “And I’ll reciprocate all damn day.”


End file.
